by Karen Welch
“I suppose I should have this all liquidated. . .if that’s the term. . .and see where I stand.” Waving a hand over the stack of ledgers and files on the desk, he leaned back in the creaking chair and rubbed his eyes. “Grandfather should have known better than to think I could be trusted with all this.”
“But it’s really not that much. I took a peek, assuming you wouldn’t mind, and it’s all very straightforward. At least you’ll never have to pinch pennies again.” Peg took a post behind him, gently massaging his rigid shoulders.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re a far wealthier man than you were a week ago. Did you even listen to what Mr. Estes was telling you?”
He groaned as her fingers dug deeper. “I tried, but all I got out of it was something about diverse holdings and deferred taxes, which meant absolutely nothing to me. I’m a musician, not a stock broker.”
“Well, let’s just say you’re a relatively wealthy musician now. Your grandfather left everything in very good shape, secure investments, no debt and a nice piece of property with its own trust.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it has its own bank account to pay for things like maintenance and taxes.”
“Really?’
“In terms even a musician can understand, yes really. You don’t have to sell anything unless you want to. You’ll have a nice income from the portfolio and a lovely home to enjoy as well.”
“What on earth would I do with all this? I barely have time to tidy my flat as it is.”
“You won’t have to clean the house, or keep up the garden. You’ll hire someone to do that for you. I’m sure Mrs. Beatty will stay on for a time, although she should have someone younger to help with the heavier work. And there must be someone qualified to take care of the grounds and do repairs when needed.”
“Good heavens, Peg, I’ll never be rich enough to afford an entire staff for this place!”
“Depends on what you mean by rich. But there’s no question you’re much better off than the average struggling violinist.” She spun the chair around and eased onto his lap. “Can we spare just a minute to discuss ‘us’? I need to ask your permission for something.”
“Since when do you ask permission?”
“I’m going to ignore that question.” She laid a hand along the side of his face, gently brushing her thumb across his cheekbone. “You look so tired, Kendall. Still not able to sleep?”
“I think I did better last night. Not quite so many dreams. Maybe if you slept with me. . .”
“I thought you didn’t feel right about that, here in your grandparents’ house.”
“The more I think about it, the more I feel sure they’d understand. And it’s my house now, apparently.”
“It is. And that’s what I wanted to ask you about.”
“Ask away.” He held her closer, settling her head on his chest.
“I’d like to stay on, after you go back to Glyndebourne. We can’t just leave your grandmother in the hospital without someone to keep an eye on things, and there’s a lot here in the house to be sorted through, clothes and personal effects. I could get them organized and then when you’re back, you could decide what to do with them.”
“But what about your studies? And you’re due to meet Connie in Paris soon, aren’t you?”
“I was supposed to meet her this week. I sent her a telegram. And I think I’ve sat through enough lectures and looked at enough paintings to last me for a while. I want to do this. Please let me.” Raising her head, she waited expectantly for his answer.
“You’ve already done so much. I couldn’t have survived this without you. But I can’t ask you to do more.” A nameless fear, bordering on panic, blossomed in his chest.
“You’re not asking me. I want to do this. It’s not as if you’ll have time to do it yourself. And feeling the way you do just now, I doubt you’d be able to anyway. It will be easier for me. I don’t have the memories to deal with.”
He closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the chair. “I never thought it would be this difficult. I keep wishing I could have one more chance to talk with him, to ask him things I need to know, to tell him how much I appreciated all he did for me. He was here one day and gone forever the next and I don’t know how to deal with all this alone.”
“I can imagine what you’re feeling. It’s what I fear most myself at times, being left to carry on. But you’re not alone. Please let me help you.”
The panic threatened to turn to anger. “But that isn’t fair to you. You just turned twenty-one. You’re on the summer holiday of a lifetime. You should be out having fun, running free without a care in the world. Why should you tie yourself to me, to a situation which only seems to grow worse with each passing day? Why, Peg? Why me, when you could have your pick of men who could give you everything you deserve?”
Her eyes clouded with an emotion he couldn’t quite fathom. “How can you ask that? Haven’t I made it clear that you’re the only man I need, the only man I’ve ever wanted? Why do you push me away, if you care for me the way you say you do?”
“Push you away? No, that’s not what I meant! I’m only trying to point out that you could have so much more with someone who isn’t saddled with such a sorry past and no future to offer you.”
She got to her feet, backing away toward the windows. Beyond her, he could see the garden shrouded in mist and the chair in which he knew his grandfather’s last moments were spent. His chest clenched and the weight of hopelessness settled on his shoulders.
Peg, watching him warily, began to speak; at first he had trouble retrieving the train of their conversation. “Our futures are what we choose to make them. I don’t see how I can make it any clearer that I want mine to include you. I know you’re going through a terrible time. I know you’re grieving and you’re probably frightened by all this responsibility. I’m not asking you to offer me anything. I’m asking you to let me help you.” When he couldn’t find words to respond, she shrugged her shoulders and he watched the cool façade begin to crumble. “I love you, Kendall. You’re not just my lover, you’re my best friend. I can’t bear to see you suffer without trying to help. But if you keep arguing against everything I offer to do, eventually, I’ll just have to give up, won’t I?”
Before he could say anything, she turned and ran from the room. He listened to her footsteps pounding up the stairs, heard her door close on the landing, and still sat staring out the window at the gray landscape.
Eventually, the realization that he might have ruined the one good thing remaining in his life washed over him. Granted, they were both on edge and emotionally drained, but if Peg’s reaction had been excessive, his arguments against her offer had sprung from unwarranted despair. He’d been pitying himself, bemoaning the disruption of his orderly little life, and that pity had led to his pushing her away, encouraging her to leave him to wallow in misery on his own terms.
With heavy steps, he trudged to her door. Without knocking, he opened it a crack and peered in. Peg stood at the window, staring out at the gray dusk, her arms tightly folded across her body. Crossing to her, he gently rested his hands on her shoulders.
“Remember that summer in Ireland when you broke your ankle? You were stumping around on those crutches, in danger of breaking something else, and I kept insisting you let me carry you?”
She nodded slowly.
“You refused my help, and then fell face first crossing the garden at the farmhouse. I was furious, remember?”
She sniffed. “You called me a stubborn, ornery little chit.”
“I did. My manners tend to suffer when I’m sleep-deprived. But I apologized later, if I recall.”
“You said it was true I was stubborn, but you shouldn’t have called me ornery.” She sniffed again and sighed deeply. “What’s your point, Kendall?”
“I find myself in much the same position. You told me then you had to learn to walk on those crutches, bec
ause I wouldn’t be around to carry you forever. And I’m trying to tell you I can’t afford to become dependent on you now, because you won’t be around to take care of me later. I know you want to help, and I love you for it. I’m just afraid of the mess I’ll make once you’re gone, if I don’t learn to manage on my own.”
She sighed again. “I understand that. But if you let me put things in order for you while I can, won’t it be easier once I’m gone?” She turned to face him, and he saw the tracks of recent tears on her cheeks. “Before you answer, think about this, too. If I don’t stay, your grandmother will be alone. She needs me, even if you pretend you don’t. Do you really feel comfortable leaving her when you have to go back to work?”
He closed his eyes, defeated by her argument and the pain twisting her face. “No. I’d thought maybe I could hire someone to sit with her, to keep me informed.”
“You could do that. And you may have to after I leave, but for now, why not let me do it? And why not let me put the house in order and help you learn the ins and outs of managing things here? Do you have someone better in mind, someone you trust more than you do me?”
“Of course not. It just seems unfair for you to. . .” She silenced him with a finger to his lips.
“Let me be the one to say what’s fair for me. Do you have any idea how terrible I would feel trying to stay away? I know I only met them once, but I feel a bond with your grandparents. They’re at least part of the reason you’re the man you are, the man I love. I want to do this for them, as much as for you.”
He gave up, dropped his head and let her take him in her arms. “I should learn not to argue with you, shouldn’t I?”
“Probably. But I doubt you will. Does that mean you’ll let me stay and do what I can?”
“Promise to teach me, not carry me?”
“Promise.”
“How can I refuse? I need you, Peg. In too many ways. That was one of the risks of letting things go so far.”
“I don’t have any regrets. Do you?”
If he did, he kept them to himself, choosing instead to lift her in his arms and carry her to the bed, to make gentle, grateful love to her until the room grew dark and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Peg traveled with him as far as London when he finally headed back to work. Her appointment with Reggie had led to an order for iron injections every two weeks, which she insisted were unnecessary, but agreed to only to appease him, she said. “You know how I hate needles. I begged Reggie to just give me pills, or even some sort of foul-tasting tonic, but he seems to think these will work better.”
He eyed her sternly across the table in the dining car. “Because he said your hemoglobin is dangerously low. If you’re going to take on all this extra work, you have to also take better care of yourself.”
“Yes, sir. I think I did feel a little bit more energetic after the first one. I suppose while I’m here, I might as well pack a few things to take back. I’ll have Hammonds drive me and maybe stay a day or two. I even thought about asking if I could borrow Alice to help me with the house and sit with your grandmother part of the time. She offered to go with me to Lewes once, so I assume she’d be allowed to travel with me.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea. And then you’ll have someone to keep you company, too. I worry about you being all alone there. What about Agnes, maybe she’d be willing to go up for a few days.”
“I think I’ll call her to see if she can meet me for lunch today. I’ve actually missed our little talks.” Folding her napkin, she seemed to want to change the subject. “Will your mother object to my helping you? I mean is that something she would see as her job?”
He thought back to Eloise’s comments after the funeral. “I hardly think so. She made it clear that she felt awkward in the house, after neglecting my grandparents for the past few years. Understandable, I suppose, but once she met Patrick, she put some distance between herself and everything related to my father. I think Grandfather understood, but Gran was hurt by it. Besides, Mother wouldn’t be much use clearing out the house and certainly no help with Gran. The only time she goes near a hospital is when she’s a patient herself.”
“I just don’t want her to dislike me any more than she already seems to. And I don’t want to cause any tension between the two of you.”
“That’s very sweet. But don’t worry. Mother and I have been together too long for a little thing like another woman, even one I adore, to cause a rift between us. I suspect that deep down, she’s grateful you’re here just now. Gives her an excuse for stepping aside.”
For almost two weeks, he forced himself to focus on work. It was a relief to be back in the impersonal environs of the hotel among people whose lives had not suddenly fallen apart. He slept soundly and enjoyed long walks around the grounds between rehearsals and performances. If he felt guilty for letting Peg take on responsibilities he knew should be his alone, he balanced it with the notion that his grandmother would approve of another woman sorting through the treasures of her lifetime and seeing to her care. Gran had liked Peg immediately. In some ways they were kindred spirits, the kind of females who instinctively took charge in a crisis. Perhaps he’d been drawn to Peg because she reminded him of the one woman in his life he’d admired most. Strong, stubborn at times and generous in extreme, both of them had shown him a devotion he’d never believed he deserved. It might be too late to repay his grandmother for all she’d given him, but he still had hopes of making things right with Peg, of someday being free to offer her more.
On Saturday morning, the call came early enough to allow him to make arrangements with the orchestra and catch a train. Peg said simply that she’d been at the hospital all night; that he needed to come, there wasn’t much time left.
Reaching Hertford just after lunch, he was met at the station by Hammonds. At the hospital he found Peg, weary but rooted firmly to his grandmother’s side, and a hovering nurse who nodded sympathetically when he indicated he’d like some privacy. He had less than an hour at the bedside to say his farewells. While she had remained unconscious since the day of her husband’s death, he sensed a change in her since his last visit, a comforting tranquility, as though she had already reached her ultimate destination. Unlike the wrenching loss of his grandfather, this time there was a sense of justice at the end.
“She looks almost happy, doesn’t she?” Peg whispered from the other side of the bed as she tenderly tucked a soft gray curl in place.
“I imagine she is. They were together for so long neither could have been content alone.” Raising his eyes to meet hers, he was struck by the tears sliding down Peg’s cheeks. “I envied them, you know. Love that lasts a lifetime is so rare, and I knew I’d never have it.”
Rounding the bed, she draped her arms over his shoulders and pressed her cheek to his. “We should let her go now. I’ll get the nurse, or do you want another minute or two?”
He raised the already cool hand to his lips and tenderly kissed the delicate fingers. “No. What do we need to do here, before we can go home?”
“Nothing. It’s all been done. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to spare you as much as possible.”
He started to argue that he should be the one to call the mortuary and contact the minister. That wasn’t her responsibility. But something in her eyes, as she stared down at the peaceful face on the pillow, silenced him. Peg hadn’t simply taken charge, she’d done what she believed was right out of love for him and for a dying woman she barely knew, but nevertheless felt a kinship with. “Thank you. Let me take you home now. You must be exhausted.”
For the second time in a month, they made the solemn journey to the little cemetery tucked beside the Methodist church. This time, unlike the first, Peg did not hang back with Agnes and Maeve, pretending to be just another member of the family. Today, she walked beside him, held his hand during the service in the church, and stood at the grave, tossing a rose onto the lowered casket alon
g with his. Back at the house, she presided over the buffet luncheon, giving quiet orders to Alice and Hammonds, who he learned had been in Hertford since his departure two weeks earlier.
“Peg, you shouldn’t be using your servants to do the work here. Or your money to pay them, either. Where is Mrs. Beatty?” When he looked around for the housekeeper, Peg pointed to her sitting among the mourners gathered in the dining room.
“I couldn’t ask her to work today, when she’s lost the two people she served for so many years. She deserves to grieve, Kendall. She told me she feels as though she’s lost her entire family.”
When her lower lip trembled and she turned away to fuss with a nearly empty tray of sandwiches, he noticed for the first time how pale she was against the black of her dress. A film of perspiration clung to her forehead and there were deep circles beneath her eyes. “I’m sorry, love. Of course that was the right thing to do. Here, let me take that.” Picking up the tray, he started toward the kitchen, glancing back over his shoulder in time to see her steady herself against the sideboard. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just tired. I should see if Alice needs anything.” Stepping aside to let her pass, he took note of the determined set of her shoulders with a shake of his head. She’d been on the go since dawn, with very little sleep for the past several nights. He’d have to make sure, once everyone left, that she took time to relax tonight.
He was forced to wait for the door to swing back allowing him to angle through with the tray. By the time he entered the kitchen, chaos had broken out. He barely managed to avoid tripping over Peg, now collapsed in a heap on the floor, while Alice dropped a silver serving platter with a crash, let out a stifled scream, and rushed to kneel beside her. “She just fell down, sir!” she gasped, looking up in horror.
With greater presence of mind than he would have credited himself, he said softly, “Alice, please go to the lounge and ask Dr. Houghton to join us in here. Don’t make a fuss. Just tell him discreetly that I asked for him.” Kneeling beside Peg, he laid a hand on her forehead and was rewarded with a flutter of her lashes. “Sweetheart, just lie still. Alice is fetching Reggie. You fainted, that’s all.”